


The Last Meal

by MarrowInTheBone



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Aliens, Angst, Betrayal, Bittersweet Ending, Blood Payment, Cannibalism, Crack Treated Seriously, Drinking, Epic, Friendship, Gen, High Fantasy, Loneliness, Multiple Authors, Personification, Sadness, Suicidal Ideation, Tragedy, Weird, deification, suicidal behavior, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarrowInTheBone/pseuds/MarrowInTheBone
Summary: A vagabond dog faces the Triverse as he experiences the love and tragedy of Its Harshness, Reality.





	The Last Meal

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story has a backstory to it: my two friends and I were bored during class, so we played this game where one person has a goal (this was me) and writes the goal down on a separate piece of paper without showing it to the others in order to confirm later that this was their original goal. Next, we each write one line each and create a story. The person with the goal must try to accomplish the goal in the story while the others attempt to stop the goal from happening. Everyone has free-rein and can basically do whatever they like. I accomplished my goal (which I won't say yet in fear of spoilers).
> 
> What you are about to read is not the original story, but rather the version that I rewrote; however, everything that happens in this version happened in the original (just with much less details). And let's just say that the rewrite turned out... interesting.

There once was a dog––a huge dog with gilded teeth that glistened in the reddening Sun and eyes that cried white wine. How he was created and why Earth had been chosen as his home was irrelevant to the dog. He was not a philosopher, nor was he any type of intellectual: his existence was just that––existence. The dog had no quality of life, as he was simply a wanderer whose only goal was survival. He absorbed none of the wondrous environment around him, nor did he interact with any of the locals. Finally, after he had gone all around the world, the dog decided to go to a new frontier: the Moon. The dog, with his mighty legs, had a superpower: the ability to jump so very high. The dog launched forth toward the Moon (he didn’t need to breathe) and landed on Her gray surface.

It was then that the dog met a moon worm, a guardian of Her Tide-Making, the Moon. The moon worm, however, could tell that the dog was not foe. “Where does this creature originate?” the worm asked the dog.

The dog replied thusly, “I come from Her Hospitality, Earth. I cannot be more specific, for I am a vagabond. I also cannot identify through relations, for I merely came to be and thus have no bloodline, nor do I have friends.”

The moon worm sensed a similar fire in their many hearts, and knew that they shared a kindred: Loneliness. “Let them join together in the bond of friendship and therefore defeat His Isolation, Loneliness,” the moon worm suggested, as to which the dog agreed. They both then became guardians of Her Tide-Making, defeating the moon draugrs who dared spring up. Unknowingly, however, between their victories, the moon worm had been attacked by a fellow worm and was imprisoned within a crater.

The traitor worm’s goal was insidious: it saw the dog as an exotic food and wished to eat him. It did not see him as an equal like the moon worm saw his friend, but rather looked upon him as a lizard looks upon a bug. The traitor worm fought alongside the dog, ensuring that it would be able to achieve its goal. Then, alas, as the dog fell yet another moon beast, the traitor worm lunged, mouth agape and its layers of serrated teeth yellowed with the bile of Its Vileness, Immorality.

But, hark! The traitor worm was knocked aside by a great force unlike any it had ever encountered and convulsed at the pain. The moon worm had returned to save his friend! The traitor worm, however, would not be downed so easily; it screeched and made Her Tide-Making quiver in fear of her supposed guardian, and charged at the moon worm. They clashed, their metallic skin shooting out dangerous sparks filled with ire, until, at last, the moon worm ripped out his fellow worm’s prime blood-beater and ate it, gaining its innate magic. The traitor worm fell in a limp coil, swiftly turning into moon dust.

“My friend!” the dog rejoiced. “You have destroyed the renegade, and have saved my life!”

“This worm enjoys this dog’s company,” the moon worm humbly explained, solidifying Their Jocundity, Friendship. “This worm desires this dog’s safety to be founded on Her Hospitality.”

“But what of your guardianship?” the dog inquired.

The moon worm exhaled, making the moondust float in Her Vastness, Space. “Her Tide-Making understands.”

A single drop of white wine dropped from the dog’s eyes, overwhelmed by the moon worm’s show of Friendship. “My friend!” he exclaimed. “Shrink yourself and twirl yourself around my neck so that I may carry us both to Her Hospitality!” The moon worm did thusly, and the dog jumped off of Her Tide-Making. Unfortunately, the dog had grown stronger with his time defeating moon draugrs, and his powerful leap fractured Her Tide-Making. Her Tide-Making screamed as She split, Her inner energy bursting forth in a cosmic explosion. The moon worm could not withstand the shockwave and flew off toward Her now-mourning Hospitality as the dog was rocked out of his course.

The dog landed on His Inexistence, Pluto, and cried out one last time, “My friend!” into Her Vastness, only to hear naught a word. The dog, feeling their bond of Friendship disintegrate, sobbed out, wine running profusely from his eyes. The wine tears froze in the gelidity of His Inexistence, and the dog licked the frozen tears, wishing for an escape from Its Harshness, Reality.

Alas, the dog, inebriated and full of woe, took no notice of the rock beast beneath him, until, with a grinding shriek and jump, it opened its maw and swallowed the dog whole. The dog merely grazed past its granite molars and fell into the beast’s stomach acid. The dog spasmed in pain and howled, his shouting heard across the Triverse.

The shout, to the expert ear, had to it a quality most rare––the scream of the last one of a kind, a dying species. Alien poachers, hoarders and all sorts of the extraterrestrial rabble in their UFOs gathered around the rock beast on His Inexistence, ready to fight for the dog’s priceless teeth and tears. This appeared to be the end of His Loneliness, the Dog...

But yet it was not! From His celestial perch atop the glass volcanoes of Her Luminance, the Sun, the Goat God hearkened to the dog’s cries of agony, and felt sympathy arise in His ichor. As the dog felt his heartbeats give out to the acid, the Goat God declared, “Rise yet again, my canine child! Your story has touched me, and I shall see it that you shall live!”

From the rock beast’s maw, candid light shot out, and the beast howled as it exploded, sending debris flying at the aliens. The aliens, frightened by the display of godly power, fled and never returned. From the remains of the rock beast, there arose a new God, a new dawn of prosperity, for the dog had become the God of Wealth, with a hundred arms, dozens of eyes and a triplet of blood-holders.

Eons listlessly passed for the God of Wealth, and His name became known throughout the Triverse. He hailed over Pluto, who became to be called His Gildedness as he was peopled. However, the God of Wealth carried with Him the burden of His Isolation, which snaked around His neck and torso, and left Him reminded daily of His lost comrade. Though He was the God of Wealth, and therefore had everything, He was without His friend, and therefore had nothing.

As the God of Wealth sat upon His diamond throne, head in paw as He stared at the ground, His old friend of ages ago slithered inside and stopped in front of Him. The moon worm allowed Her Nothingness, Silence to remain for a moment before he opened his mouth and bid her leave. “This worm has not seen this dog for a while.” The dog said nothing. “This worm has become Emperor-Empress Kratosa of Her Mourning, Earth, since he last saw this dog.” The worm canted his head downward. “This worm has also been cursed to be God-Goddess of War by the last imparted powers of Her Tide-Making, and this worm must take blood payment for her from her killer.”

The dog finally looked up with dull eyes that were whitened with age and grief. “My friend, if I must die, then I shall at least die with the faint knowledge of what joy feels like knowing that it was by your grace. All I ask is for you to allow me one last meal: a simple cookie, for it is sweet like what my passing life shall be like.”

“This worm allows it,” the worm agreed. As the dog conjured a cookie, the worm could not help but dwell on Him. Before they had met, Kratosa had been a lonely guardian of Her Tide-Making, and His days had been filled with nothing but killing––the worm had had no quality of life. But then the dog had shown up, and Their Jocundity had formed between the two. The dog was the reason why Kratosa learned of happiness, only for Their Jocundity to be ripped apart. The dog was the reason why His Isolation hurt the worm so much.

Blinded with pent-up ire, guilt and regret, the worm shrieked out and lunged at His old friend right as the dog was about to bite into the cookie. The cookie fell and crumbled as it impacted the ground, the dog yelling out as His chest was riven in two. Two of His blood-holders were torn before the worm paused, suddenly struck by what He had done, staring at the beating third.

“My friend,” the dog wheezed out, “why have you stopped?”

“This worm...” The worm trailed off. “I-I am sorry. This worm must receive blood payment, but this worm also cannot live without this dog.”

“Y-You––” the dog hacked, spattering ichor on His fur. “You cannot have both.”

Before the dog could continue, the worm took ahold of His third heart and ripped it out, taking the soul of the dog with Him. To take the dog’s magic, the worm quickly ate His corpse, intoxicating the worm perpetually. Before the worm could collapse through sheer exhaustion, He used the strong veins and arteries that remained on the heart to fashion a necklace, and He wore the dog’s heart proudly.

“This worm shall have both,” the worm declared before he fell to his side. His slumbering form hardened until he became a statue, to be awaken only when the Triverse needed Him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were curious what my goal was: it was to eat a cookie. That's it. That was literally it.


End file.
